Unwelcome Thought Bubbles
by TheyCallMeSnow
Summary: Joyce Stevens found herself in a pickle. She was Head Girl with James Potter, a boy she had long ago decided was too volatile to be her friend, let alone more than that. She never thought she would be so confused.
1. Chapter 1

Unwelcome Thought Bubbles

**A/N: So this is my remake of TSNOTM, guys! I hope you like it. I can't pretend it will be just like TSNOTM, because my writing style has matured, but I think you'll find a lot of similarities between this and TSNOTM. **

**Happy reading, lovelies!**

**xSnow**

Chapter One

"_Show me that you're human;_

_you won't break!_

_..._

_You're a spark without flame  
>I'm a desert in the rain,<br>You're a mountain and I'm a stepping stone  
>So walk away from your pride<br>It's the demon in disguise  
>And it won't help you to calm the swelling tide."<em>

—Gabrielle Aplin,_ "Human"_

The summer had gone by all too quickly. Too much time had been spent wishing to be back at Hogwarts, and to much time had been spent dreading the return. Eventually I had to admit to myself that I was undeniably nervous about the return to the castle. Seventh year was a huge part of my life, with the NEWTs and all, and I knew I had to practice and practice and (you guessed it!) practice some more if I wanted to pass and become an Auror like my father before me.

The morning of my departure, I awoke with a start. The dream I had had was what woke me. In the dream, I was standing in the Great Hall, surrounded by people who were admiring me and my new haircut. They all cheered, screaming that my pale blue eyes were the most beautiful things they had ever seen, begging for me to love them. In the dream, I hated it. I didn't imagine that would be the case in real life, however. My best friends, Dominique Weasley, Rose Weasley, and Arwen Lance were the ones that caught everyone's eyes. They were all absolutely stunning in everyone's eyes, and I was...well. I was the potato friend.

Arwen smiled at boys, and they blushed sheepishly back. Rose grinned at boys, and they talked about it for weeks. Dom winked at boys, and they never shut up about it. I smiled shyly at boys, and they asked their friends: "why is that potato smiling at me?" Really, though, they did. I had never been skinny, never been busty, never been stunningly gorgeous...I basically lived through my friends, forever feeling inadequate. They tried to tell me that I was pretty, but I always brushed them off.

It wasn't until the summer after sixth year that I really started trying. I did makeup (and I was pretty good, actually). I embraced my crazy-curly hair instead of trying to force it into being silky straight and perfect like Dominique's. I wore clothes I thought looked good instead of just walking around in baggy shorts and a t shirt. But I was doing it for me, not for other people, and so when I realized I had become someone who was actually kind of beautiful, I smiled secretly to myself. My short, thick, dark brown ringlet curls framed my crystal blue eyes, and they were accented by light brown eyeshadow. I had a light dusting of freckles on my nose which had darkened over the summer. I had a light gloss on my lips, and I felt perfectly feminine. I fit in now. I could feel almost equal to Dom and Rose and Arwen. I was finally comfortable in my own pale skin.

In first year, I was content living in their shadows. It's not that I was quiet; I wasn't. My main problem was that I was obnoxiously loud and didn't really have a filter. Because of this, most people didn't like me. I knew they probably would't like me in sixth year, either. But I didn't really care. The people I wanted to like me liked me. People just were intimidated by me, my dad would tell me. I was the definition of sarcasm, as well, and loved pointing out other people's flaws. Mainly if they were stupid.

Oh, stupid people. They were the bane of my existence, forever making me doubt the small amount of faith I had in humanity. And Arwen and I loved making fun of them. When one of the Slytherin girls said something unbelievably idiotic, ("Wait, so you're telling me Panama is an independent country? I thought it was owned by Cuba!") we could just look at each other and we knew that we were both making fun of the same person.

That's just how close I was with Arwen. I liked Rose and Dominique, they were great, but Arwen and I had known each other since we went to muggle primary school together. Our fathers had worked together at the Ministry, and were best friends, so it only made sense that Arwen and I were as well. I could tell her anything. We could talk about anything. I could accidentally walk in on her naked, laugh at her, and then walk out as if nothing had happened. We laughed about it later, and it's been a running joke between us ever since. There was just a special kind of friendship between us that couldn't be replicated.

"Joyce!" My mother's voice called to me from downstairs, "You need to get up! We leave for King's Cross in thirty minutes!"

"I'm up, mum!" I yelled back, scrambling out of bed so my lie would become a truth.

I put on my makeup and and got dressed, all wondering what the girls would think of me. I had wanted to see them this summer, but it just hadn't worked out, so I would have to surprise them today. We had owled, of course, but it wasn't the same as just talking to them face-to-face. All the summers before this one, we had all stayed at the Burrow for a few weeks. This summer, however, Grandma Weasley had surgery on her hip, and so there was no opportunity for me to visit.

After a short breakfast, our family of six piled into the car. Usually, we would travel by Floo, but after a rather unfortunate accident involving Alec and the majority of our Floo powder, the fireplace had been damaged so badly that it had to be replaced. It wouldn't be ready until the middle of September, so my father had commissioned a car from the Ministry. My mother and father sat up front and argued softly about the approach of another mission my father had to go on. My ten year old brother Alec whined about not getting to go to Hogwarts. Reese, a third year Ravenclaw brother of mine, told Alec to stop talking so he could read, (the course books for his year, of course,) while my fifth year Gryffindor sister Savannah and I thumb wrestled over who got the last biscuit in the tin.

Our car was crazy, sure, but my family were my rock. It was always crazy in our house, and I had fully accepted that fact. I loved my big family, and it always made me think of how large of a family Rose and Dom had. Seriously. When the whole gang was gathered at the Burrow, they had to eat outside because the giant house just couldn't contain them anymore. I wanted five kids eventually, as well, because the loving dynamic that was created by large families was something I wanted desperately. Eventually, Savannah won our long-winded thumb wrestle match, just as we pulled up to King's Cross.

Thirty minutes later, after many tearful goodbye hugs from my mother and statements of affirmation from my father that I would do great and that I was gorgeous, I boarded the Hogwarts train. The glorious scarlet train hooted that departure was imminent, its smoke billowing majestically behind it. I found myself nostalgically staring at it, knowing that this would be the last time that I boarded. Hogwarts had been my home for six years...I wasn't sure that I could leave it now. Or ever. Heaven knows, though, for all I know, I could be unbelievably tired of the castle come end of year. But that had never happened before, and so I knew that graduation would be one of the hardest things I would do in my seventh year.

And it would be hard, I knew that for sure. The NEWTs were coming up, I had to figure out what on earth I was going to do once I graduated if I didn't get into the Auror training schools, and on top of that, I was Head Girl.

Yep. It had come in the mail with my Hogwarts letter, shiny and small, proclaiming my achievement. I was excited, but I felt fairly unqualified for the job. I had been a Prefect since fifth year, but I still felt like my grades weren't high enough and that I wasn't an exemplary-enough student. I was no Rose Weasley, that was for sure. But my parents had been very proud of me, and so I would try my best to be worthy of the title. I just hoped that the Head Boy would be someone I could get along with without abusing them verbally.

Currently, however, I was focused on finding my friends. They would probably be in one of the compartments in the Weasley/Potter hall. The gang was so large that one compartment would never be enough. They had a hallway of about six compartments that some of them just rotated throughout, saying hello to everyone. Part of the reason that they needed so much space were the adopted Weasley/Potters, like me. There were usually more of us than original Weasley/Potters.

I opened the first compartment. They weren't there. Instead, James Potter and Fred Weasley smirked impishly at me. "Ugh," I exclaimed, "I don't have time for this." They pulled me in regardless, however, and Fred let go of me at the exact moment that James pulled me to him so I was laying across his lap, with my head in his lap looking up at him.

"Hello beautiful," James drawled, trying to be flattering. There was no denying his attractiveness. Hazel eyes that went on forever. Messy dark hair that was just so sexy you wanted to pull it out...sorry what was I saying? Oh yeah. James. He had beautiful cheekbones, as well, ones that you could cut your hand slapping...I knew, I'd done it before.

"James, what are you doing?" I said as I got off his lap. I wanted to stay there, admittedly, but I knew it was far too improper for me to do so.

"Just saying hello, darling," oh, he was_ so_ hot. Gorgeous, even. But he and I were volatile. We had trying being friends before in fourth year, since I was close with his cousins, and I had even liked him for a while...he told me he liked me, too, but about a week after "professing his affection," he was back to snogging dimwitted Hufflepuffs in empty broom closets.

"Well next time, stupid, please refrain from feeling the need to have me on top of you."

"I thought you liked being the dominant one," he said, eyes mischievous. I almost laughed at him. I would have, if I wasn't busy being mortified.

"You'll never know, will you, James?" I smirked and walked out of the compartment.

If I had taken the time to look back and see what I had done, I would've seen the pain and rejection on James Potter's face.

**And that's Chapter One! Please Read and Review, and I'm always welcome to story suggestions!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I am really bad at this whole continuity thing. And I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a while. But I don't think it will get much better soon. I'm going to Spain with my school in 14 days (I'm in ninth grade, BTW,) and so I am going to try to update as much as possible before then. **

**Love you all!**

**xSnow**

**Chapter Two**

"_Remember once, the things you told me?_

_And how the tears ran from my eyes?_

…

_Sometimes I wish we could be strangers _

_so I didn't have to know your pain_

_but if I kept myself from danger _

_this emptiness would be the same_

_I ain't know angel. _

_I never was._

_But I never hurt you. _

_It's not my fault."_

—"_No Angel" _by Birdy

JAMES

"She is so beautiful when she's angry," I thought as I tried to recover from being shot down by Joyce again. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, because I asked her out every other day, but this time she squeezed the little bit of hope that I had had out of me. It was a dull feeling, like being kicked hard in the chest. My breath was there, but there was a feeling inside me that bubbled and burned and came out of me in a crooked sort of love. An angry love. An affectionate hatred. I could never survive without her and yet I can barely breathe when she comes. As we sit there on the train and Fred asks me on a scale of one to ten how hurt I am, all I can do is look blankly forward. He takes that as his answer and stops talking.

"I'm going to Arwen's compartment." Fred tells me, a weary sense of longing in his voice. Arwen is his Joyce, I suppose. But unlike with me and Joyce, I could tell there was a mutual attraction, even if he couldn't. It was the way she looked at him after she said something biting. She wasn't feeling it anymore. Arwen didn't want to be mean to Fred anymore. She just didn't know how to do anything else.

Was that how Joyce felt about me? I liked to hope so, but there wasn't much chance. Fourth year was disastrous. I hadn't meant to hurt her like I did, but I got the feeling that she was indifferent and didn't know what to do with that feeling. That sense of desperation...it was a feeling that I had come to be too familiar with. And as Fred walked out of the compartment, I felt that there was nothing I could do to change Joyce. There was nothing I would want to do to change her. She was fantastic and made me so deliciously happy sometimes. On the rare occasion when she would talk to me, anyway. So I followed Fred to where they were, hoping to talk to her and possibly smooth over what had happened when we saw each other last.

….

"He really was fit," I heard Arwen exclaim as Fred and I approached the compartment. "He had really deep brown eyes..." I saw Fred's head perk up, the little hope in his heart thinking maybe she was talking about him. And then: "he had red hair, too. Not Fred Weasley red, but a prettier, darker red."

His face fell. But Fred Weasley was not someone to show hurt, so he waltzed into the compartment regardless. "Talking about me, ladies?" he said, fake smirk in place.

"In your dreams, Weasley," Arwen shot out just as soon as Fred's words had left his mouth.

"How did you know that you've been in my dreams? Granted, you were wearing a lot less-" he was cut off when Arwen kicked him in the shin. "Makeup!" he protested, "you were wearing a lot less makeup!" I grinned at Fred's antics as I watched Joyce hide a snicker. It was funny, she couldn't deny that.

She looked up at me, and even though we only held each other's gaze momentarily, I couldn't keep a zany smile off my face.

"Bugger!" She yelped, standing up in the compartment and banging her head on the luggage carrier above her. "I have the prefect meeting! Now! I can't be late for a meeting _I'm conducting!_" looking back on that, I know that I should have realized that she was talking about being Head Girl. But I tried not to think about it as I followed her through the hallway to the meeting.

She sighed. "We aren't friends, Potter," she spun around, cheeks rosy and eyes bleary, "so I don't know why you're following me."

I really wanted to wait to see her reaction when there were more witnesses around, but I couldn't help myself. "I'm Head Boy, Joyce."

Her reaction was better than I could have planned myself. She looked at me, then her badge, then my badge, then all around. She then proceeded to not only pinch herself but to pinch me as well. All the while whispering "there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home." The finale, however, was when she said to me: "well then, tally-ho!" and walked into the Head's compartment.

There were plenty of people in the room, I quickly decided. I was used to being around large crowds, but I wasn't usually speaking or directing a meeting in front of them. But, like always, Joyce was more prepared than I was, and she directed the meeting. I mean, I said a couple things that could be viewed as important, but, as usual, I felt that I was not the driving force for how much got done. She was speedy, getting things checked off of the agenda faster than I could have introduced them. And she had an air of confidence around her that I knew was new. She was taking charge. It was really attractive.

…

Once the meeting finished, every one of the prefects left until it was just Joyce and I. I stared at her for a while, wondering if she would notice.

"You do know we aren't friends, right Potter?" she questioned looking up at me.

"I think we are," I said, finding within myself a boldness I wasn't aware I contained.

"No, we really aren't, I'm afraid," If I squinted one eye, it almost looked as though she were remorseful. "The brief friendship that we had in fourth year has long since dissipated."

"Why did it stop?" I asked, truly ignorant.

She looked up at me then, and I could see her insecurity. She didn't want to talk about it. But I knew she would anyway. "Do you want the truth or the sugar-coated version?"

"Give it to me raw."

She looked me in the eyes. "We stopped being friends because you got bored of me, James. Because I wasn't shiny enough. I wasn't new enough. I wasn't _good_ enough for the great James Sirius Potter. I'm not an angel, James. I never was. But _I_ never hurt _you_. This isn't my fault."

And she left. Walked out of the room and ran away from me. Did I really, truly make her feel that way? Like she wasn't good enough? Because she was more than just good enough! She was everything and anything and perfect. All I needed. Why didn't she think she was? Was I the cause of her insecurities? Because if I was, then I wasn't sure if I wanted to be me anymore. If all I knew was how to hurt others, then I was useless. If all I cared about was personal gain, then I was despicable.

But I wasn't.

All I cared about was Joyce.

So I chased her out of the compartment.

**Please review, guys! It means a lot to me!**

**Love, Snow xoxo**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay wow guys I am reeeeally bad at updating. You'll just have to bear with me. I don't even have a good excuse except that I've just forgotten to update. But here it is, and I promise I'm trying to get better. I would suggest you go back and read the last two chapters; that's what I had to do before writing this one. It's been so long I'd forgotten. Sorry guys.**

**Love,**

**Snow**

Chapter Three

"_You walk right up and _

_You ask me to dance, _

_then you walk away."_

—"Ribbons," Ingrid Michaelson

JOYCE

I was so pathetic. Why did I run away from all of my problems? Why did I run away from James when he...when he...stood there. And watched me. And acted like he cared! Acted like I meant something to him! I never had been good with self esteem. I could not see why anyone would care about me, yet alone the most attractive person in our school. It was a rare emotion. Because of his apparent caring, I was left with a lack of knowledge of what to do. It caused a riff in my relationship

with James because all that we could do was hurt each other. I had liked him a lot in fourth year. I was in love with him for all of fifth. It took a long time for me to be me again. To wake up and be happy and not cry at the thought of him.

Arwen told me I didn't need him. Every day, she told me that I was good enough to her and that I was better without him, anyway. But looking back on it, I never believed her. Even though he said things to me that made my body shake and looked at me like I was scum, I still fell. So deep that I couldn't get out. So fully encompassed by all of him that I couldn't be happy just watching.

"Joyce?" I heard Arwen's voice down the hall. I almost got to her. I was so close. And about 30 feet away from her, I was pulled into a compartment.

"Joyce."

I chocked on air. "James."

He was so close to me that I could smell him. He was so welcoming that I almost fell into him. But I knew I couldn't. _Be strong,_ I told myself. But it was more difficult than I had ever thought it would be. I was shaking, and he probably knew it. He probably knew that I was putty in his hands; that the last refusal had taken most of what I had in me.

"I wanted to talk to you." He breathed out the words, his breath hitting my face.

I closed my eyes. "We have nothing to talk about." My voice was soft, silky.

"You and I both know that's not true." He looked determined.

"James, I told you. You left me. We were friends; sometimes I fooled myself into thinking we were _more_ than friends...I don't think I could put myself through the cycle again." I tried again in vain to pull my arm away from his, but he seemed hell-bent on holding on to me until he felt like this conversation was over.

"Then let's stop the cycle. Let's make it work this time. Let's be friends, Joyce." It was the eyes that got me, really. The hazel eyes.

The sigh I let out echoed through the silence. And then I uttered words I had never planned on uttering again.

"Okay, James. Let's be friends."

…

"...and now we're friends again, I guess." I waited for everyone's reactions. Arwen's mainly. Rose and Dominique enjoyed their cousin James, and so the thought that we weren't feuding anymore would likely come as a relief.

"Well," Arwen said, "at least you'll both survive the year. I can't imagine that would happen if you weren't friends." She smiled when she finished. That was how I knew it was okay. That's how Arwen tells you she's fine; that she approves.

Dom and Rose just nodded at Arwen's words, and that was the moment I knew this was final; the moment I felt like I couldn't get out of it. And the deepest part of my soul knew that I would be in love with James again before the end of the month, if I even lasted the week. And of course it would be hopeless, because Arwen had, by saying that it would be odd to have feuding Heads, told me the reason for James's insistence. He just wanted an easy year. Or at least easier than it would've been.

My friends and I talked of things of little consequence for the remainder of the train rideJ though the whole time, I felt in my stomach a hurt. I had gotten my hopes up again. And this was all I needed; the reminder that James was only doing this for selfish reasons.

He just wanted an easy year.

…

"Miss Stevens, may I speak to you please?" I looked up from my plate of food from the feast. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall stood above me, her pointed hat straight and her hair pulled into a tight bun. I automatically said goodbye to my friends and walked with her, though my stomach protested. Hunger was a part of it, surely, but I felt as though it was mainly upset because of McGonagall. Whenever the Headmistress asked to talk to me I felt as though I was in trouble, even though I knew I wasn't.

"I can assume you know where we're going, Miss Stevens?" she asked.

"The Head dorms, I assume?" I replied. She nodded at me, and then we were off.

She led me through corridors and passed several paintings and portraits. Finally we landed in front of one that was made up of a beautiful field of wildflowers. There was a girl twirling in the background, her pink skirt billowing around her.

"Guinevere," McGonagall said expectantly to the girl in the field. She stopped spinning and sashayed closer to us.

"Hello," she said to me sweetly, "you must be Head Girl this year. I've already met the Head Boy." Her eyes seemed to glaze now, her cheeks reddening as she giggled, "quite the flirt, that James Potter. You'll have fun with him." She winked at me cheekily as McGonagall tutted her dissatisfaction.

"I'll leave you in Guinevere's...interesting care. Enjoy your evening, Miss Stevens."

Once McGonagall left I looked up at the portrait. "What's the password?" I asked.

"There isn't one," Guinevere said, a lilt to her voice that reminded me of Luna Lovegood. She giggled again. "I can't just forget your face! Or James's for that matter." she giggled again at mention of him as she swung aside, allowing me entrance to what would be my dorm for the year.

James was already there, a book in his hand as he sat on the couch. His rectangle shaped spectacles were resting low on the bridge of his nose, his hair messy and eyes scanning the pages. I didn't know what he was reading, but he didn't notice my entrance until the portrait shut behind me, the noise somewhat like a slam. Instantly the hazel of his eyes were on mine. Hazel met crystal in a moment of silent contemplation. He simply looked at me, and I returned the favor, somewhat dumbstruck. I felt that familiar stirring inside my chest that I only felt with James, and my heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it.

He was the first to break the silence. _"The Lord of The Rings_ by J.R.R. Tolkien," he said as a an explanation. I nodded and smiled.

"I love those books," I said. "I read them as soon as Arwen told me the origin of her name." Arwen's father had a bit of an obsession with the novels, and her name sprung from it. I felt it ironic that she resembled the elf, long soft waves, intelligent eyes.

James laughed. "Yes, after growing up with a knowledge of the books I was quite amused to discover her name. Fred has taken to the books quickly, not surprisingly," he winked at me then and I felt my cheeks burn. And then he was laughing at his own comment and I was laughing along with him even though it wasn't even that funny and we just laughed for what felt like hours and it was beautiful. Somehow I found myself collapsing onto the couch next to him and falling into him.

And then the laughter stopped and he looked over at me, a glimmer of a smile on his face. "You know," he said, out of breath and hesitant, "you," he leaned closer, "are so," he was closer now and suddenly I was leaning into him and I knew what was coming and I wanted it, "beautiful." I could feel his breath on me know, our mouths millimeters apart. I leaned in, and—

"HELLLLOOO HEAD'S DORM!" Fred Weasley called as he jumped through the portrait. Instantly, James and I jumped apart and I ran up the stairs to the left bedroom that I assumed was mine.

As I closed the door, I cradled my head in my hands. What had just happened?

…

JAMES

I cursed under my breath as Joyce sprinted up the stairs. Turning to Fred, I pulled at my hair. "What the hell, mate?!" I yelled at him. "How did you even get in here? The portrait is only supposed to respond to me or Joyce!"

Fred smirked. "The girl in the painting is easily persuaded," he said as he winked at me. I let out a long sigh.

"Don't you see what you just did, Fred? It will take me weeks to get that close again! Why did you have to ruin that?"

Fred at least had the sense to look apologetic. "I'm sorry mate. I didn't know that I was going to be walking in on an almost snog-fest," he grinned at his own comment, "if I had, I would have for sure brought a camera."

That was enough. In a fit of rage, I launched at Fred and tackled him to the ground. We rough housed for a while before I wasn't angry anymore, just disappointed.

"I really am sorry, mate." Fred said in all seriousness. "If I had gotten that close with Arwen I'd probably be just as upset."

I racked my hands through my hair again nervously. "I was so close...I don't know if it'll ever be like that again. As soon as she heard you she ran away like a spooked horse..."

Fred patted my back. "I know mate, I know."

…

Joyce ignored me for a whole week. I had a feeling she would; the awkwardness between us was just too thick. I wanted to talk to her about it but I felt like we were too far apart now, as though almost being so close had pushed her further away than she had been before. As I let that fear grow, it became harder to do my job as Head Boy and even harder to focus on my studies. I knew everyone had noticed, and I knew that no matter what, I couldn't be helped by anyone but Joyce.

The worst part to her, I knew, was that we were partners for Potions. Professor Slughorn (somehow alive in his very old age,) thought that it would be good for the Heads of the school to be partnered together. The problem was, for Joyce, that this partnership would extend to the entirety of the school year. I was giddy at the prospect, but I knew she wouldn't be.

One day while we were brewing the Draught of Living Death I found myself staring at her for probably longer than acceptable. She kept working on the potion but she spoke. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." She looked up at me, laughter in her eyes. I just smiled back.

I knew this meant that it was okay; that she was easing back into my life again. We talked for the rest of the class, the conversation amazingly easy and smooth. She was so easy to talk to that I almost forgot how many times to stir the potion.

After class, she walked with me to lunch. "Hey I'm sorry about how awkward that was the other night with Fred. Gosh, that was a mistake," she laughed at herself and I felt my heart sink, "let's just forget about it."

I tried not to feel the sting as I replied. "Oh yeah, no problem Joyce. I totally agree." _Lies, lies, lies,_ I thought to myself. We went on as if nothing had ever happened, and I couldn't decide if it was good or bad. Mainly I just felt numb. Why had she leaned in if she hadn't felt the same?

All I knew was that I would never understand women. But being friends with Joyce was better than being nothing with Joyce. So I let myself breathe and tried to be content.

I tried and failed to keep in my affection for her. I couldn't go back to snogging random girls in broom closets because I wasn't sure it would distract me.

No matter how hard I tried, nothing could rid her from my mind.

She was wrapped around me too tight.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR  
><em><br>_"_How can you expect me_

_not to eat,_

_when the Forbidden Fruit_

_tastes so sweet?"_

JOYCE

"OI, Joyce!" James Potter yelled at me from down the hall, and I rolled my eyes.

Turning on my heel, I faced him. "What do you need, Potter?" I saw him scowl at my intentional use of Potter instead of James, and internally cringed as well. I didn't really want to call him that, but the more space I put between us, the better.

He asked me if I wanted to walk with him to class, and I agreed, lost in thought as we walked. Ever since I had mentally figured out why we almost kissed and had apologized to James, (we were just delusional from the train ride, obviously,) I had been struggling with keeping up a strictly platonic thought process in his presence. Being friends with him again was _weird_, and I knew it would take me a while to get over that awkwardness.

James and I had hated each other, (or, at least, based on how quickly we decided to become friends again, _pretended_ to hate each other,) for a very, very long time. Because of this, jumping back into the friendship ring was one of the most bizarre things I had ever done; my entire world had shifted simply by being kind to the boy.

"Sickle for your thoughts," James said, glancing sideways at me.

"I believe the equivalent saying would be 'knut for your thoughts,' Potter," I said, rolling my eyes at his attempt to turn a muggle phrase into a wizarding one.

"Yes, but your thoughts are worth much more than a knut, Joyce."

I stared at him for a moment, surprised that he would say something like that. How smooth he was always caught me off guard, and I had to constantly remind myself that James Sirius Potter was nothing more than a charmer; he did things like this for everyone. I was nothing special, and that was an unsurprisingly upsetting revelation.

"Don't try and use your charms on me, Potter," I said, even though deep down I really did want him to use his charms on me, "I'm not that kind of girl."

Because I wasn't. In fact, I tried so desperately hard not to be, especially when James and I were friends in Fourth year. There were times I didn't get to talk to him for full class periods or meals because his fangirls were surrounding him and I absolutely refused to battle for his attention.

"I know," he said, "but I can't just turn them off." I rolled my eyes at this comment.

"You're perfectly capable," I said. "Do I need to teach you how to not flirt or something?" I was sure he heard the joke in my tone, but his answer baffled me.

"You'd be rubbish at teaching me how to not flirt." he said, laughing. He laughed at me!

Slightly annoyed, I said, "What utter lies! I am perfectly capable of not flirting, in fact I rarely do flirt!"

This time, James let out a belly laugh that lasted for a good 15 seconds. "You have _got_ to be joking, Joyce!" he said. "You are one of the most flirtatious girls in all of Hogwarts. You never seem to do anything more than flirt," I blushed at that comment, "but you certainly do flirt. You're probably worse than I am."

I hit his arm, hard. "I am not! Just because I'm _nice_-"

"There is a great difference between being nice and flirting, Joyce, and you are almost always flirting. I'm pretty sure I can name eight guys in our potions class alone who are in love with you, and you fuel it."

"Oh please," I countered, "I just barely started caring about my appearance, and boys never noticed me before that. Eight boys have not fallen in love with me within the space between now and when school began." We were only about a month in, anyway.

"Joyce, just because I scare them away doesn't mean you don't have suitors."

I looked at him, my eyes wide. "What the bloody hell are you on about, Potter?"

All he did was throw his head back, laughing, and run down the hall to his next class.

…

"Why won't you just leave me alone, Fred?"

"Maybe because you're insane!"

Everyone heard their argument. It was very distracting, and suddenly my soup didn't look as appetizing. When Arwen started to get red in the face, I stood up from the table and walked over to her, just in time to see Fred mutter something under his breath to her that earned him a resounding slap on his freckled face. Arwen then flipped her hair towards him and stalked off, her face a fake calm. I knew that girl better than I knew myself. She was holding back tears.

I glared at Fred and sprinted after her. At least he looked remorseful.

Catching up with Arwen was, unsurprisingly, difficult. She was a runner. Eventually, however, I found her exactly where we both knew she'd go: the Room of Requirement. Surprisingly, while many knew of its existence, few people were capable of getting inside without being let in by a Potter or Weasley for a party. The Potters would tell them how to get there, but never how to get in.

But I knew, because I was freaking brilliant.

Also, because James told me, but mainly because I was brilliant.

The room looked the same way it always did whenever Arwen or I needed it: it was dark, and there was a giant couch in the middle, facing an even more gigantic telly. We loved watching muggle shows when we were upset.

Arwen sat on the couch, telly off, with her head in her hands. She was sobbing. This made me distraught, for Arwen was rarely upset to the point of shedding tears.

I approached her quietly, so as not to startle her, and put my hand on her back, rubbing in soothing circles. She looked up at me and sighed. "You shouldn't let him get to you, you know," I said, and felt her sink further into the couch.

"I know," she replied, "but Fred has always been able to get to me. I've never known why."

"I know why," I said. I think this startled her, but she needed to come to terms with the way she felt. "You're in love with him."

She shook her head and buried herself further into her pillow. "You can't just tell me how you think I feel and expect me to just accept it," she said.

"Arwen, you know full well how you feel about him; you and I both know you're just afraid of rejection. And that's okay. Everyone is. Even Fred, which makes sense since he's in love with you too."

She scoffed in disbelief. "Fred Weasley feels nothing for me but repulsion."

I looked down at her again, so worried and yet so envious. She had someone who loved her deeply, and he was right under her nose. I'd give anything for that.

"I've seen the way you look at each other," I said.

"What, with hatred in our eyes?" she said, "Because that's the only way Fred Weasley looks at me and I've never seen otherwise."

"When you don't see him, I do. When you don't notice, I do. And you didn't even have to tell me you like him because I've known since last year."

She breaks into a new wave of hysteria. "Oh, Joyce, what am I to do? I thought that maybe he liked me too but he's so cruel! I have been so close to getting over him and liking other boys, but every single time he's there to ruin any chances I have!" As she spoke, I had a flashback to my conversation with James.

" _...just because I scare them away doesn't mean you don't have suitors."_

"Fred's just jealous because he wants you for himself," I said.

"No he doesn't! He's never going to care about me!"

For the rest of the evening, I just let her cry, too lost in thought to try and convince her to do anything else.

James couldn't be taken seriously, I knew that, but it was so much easier to blame him for my lack of a boyfriend than my own awkwardness. A part of me was angry at James for chasing away boys that liked me, but another part of me, that felt more dominant, was oddly...pleased.

That worried me.

…

The next day in Potions, I caught Fred looking across the room at Arwen, who was sitting next to me. I stared at him until his eyes flickered to me, and I held his gaze. I raised my eyebrows at him, only to receive a knowing smirk. I flipped him off and went back to the draught Arwen and I were making.

"That wasn't very ladylike, Joyce," Adam Dower's words were lined with sarcasm, and I knew he was laughing at me.

Turning to him with a smirk upon my lips, I said: "I hate to break it to you, Adam, but I am not a lady."

"Oh, I know," he said, "that's what I like most about you." He winked at me after that, and I felt something stir within me. I wondered faintly if Adam was one of the boys James talked to me about; the ones that liked me.

Arwen tapped me on the shoulder, and I reluctantly turned away from Adam back to our potion. When I glanced up again, however, I felt my smile falter. James was looking at Adam, a scowl on his face. I sighed inwardly, knowing that now I would have to beg James to leave Adam alone.

When the bell rang, James rushed out of the classroom. I told Arwen I'd catch up with her later and, avoiding Adam's poignant glance, went after him.

I watched him from behind as he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling tighter on the ends.

"James!" I called after him. I knew he heard me, but he kept on walking.

I yelled after him again, but to no avail. Eventually I broke into a sprint and chased after him. When I reached him, I put my hand on his large bicep in an attempt to stop him. "James," I said, out of breath, "I need to talk to you about something."

He didn't even look at me as he brushed my hand off and kept walking down the hallway.


End file.
